


Christmas Advent 2015

by testosterone_tea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Advent, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:58:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterone_tea/pseuds/testosterone_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day until Christmas, a new 221b drabble will be put up for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shopping for Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I'm doing hudders-and-hiddles' challenge for 25 days of fic-mas

Sherlock hated shopping for gifts. Christmas one of those times when everyone around him seemed determined to wish him good cheer. It was very annoying, and quite often, Sherlock was tempted to tell their children that Santa didn't exist in order to get back at them.

John loved Christmas. Of course he did, he had ugly Christmas jumpers saved up to wear the whole season. Was wearing one right now, in fact.

"Come on, Sherlock, we've got gifts to buy yet," John said.

"You've got gifts to buy," Sherlock said. "I have a case to solve."

"We can solve it after we get a present for Molly," John said.

John had insisted they go shopping together for presents after Sherlock had said that John could just put both their names on the gifts. Somehow, that had translated to being here, during the Christmas rush.

There were screaming infants everywhere, and harried parents rushing this way and that. John smiled, pushing his way through the crowd. Sherlock glared at everyone around him and crossed his arms.

"Think she'd like bath salts?" John asked.

"Florida man ate someone's face," Sherlock said.

"You would bring that up," John said.

Sherlock would, in fact. He had better things to do than look at bath products, especially when he knew they'd end up getting bath bombs.


	2. Hot cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have some hot chocolate.

Sherlock got in the door of 221b and immediately dropped all of the bags he had been carrying. Now that they were in the flat, John could deal with the pesky task of wrapping, thanks ever so.

"I'm going to make us hot chocolate," John said.

Sherlock didn't even bother to ask why. John was in full-on Christmas cheer, and not even Sherlock's irritation dampened it. Sherlock collapsed in his chair and waited for the hot cocoa to be delivered to his hand from John.

John hummed as he put on the kettle and puttered around the kitchen looking for the cocoa mix. Sherlock knew exactly where it was, but John found it without his help. To his surprise, when John brought it over, there was a candy-can sticking out of the marshmallow foam.

"I've often wondered if a candy cane could be used as a murder weapon," Sherlock commented.

"Of course you would," John said fondly.

Sherlock drank a sip of the hot chocolate, and John giggled as he put the mug down.

"What?" he asked in irritation.

In answer, John leaned forward and swiped his thumb across Sherlock's upper lip, revealing foam had gathered there. Then, John popped the thumb in his mouth to lick it off. 

For some reason, Sherlock could hear his heart beating loudly and blushed.


	3. Winter Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It snows during the night.

Sherlock woke to the image of falling snow going past his window. He rose groggily, wrapped up in his sheet, and went into the living room.

John was standing by the window, looking out on London. Sherlock shuffled over and looked over John's shoulder. London was covered in a fine layer of snow and frost, as if a giant had come and dusted it in sugar. London looked so peaceful when it was like this.

"It's marvelous, isn't it," John said, not taking his eyes off London.

"I suppose it is," allowed Sherlock.

He chose not to mention all the traffic difficulties of snow and how the hospitals and the police would probably be very busy today. Not to mention, anyone that slipped in it would be showing up at the clinic today.

"We should take a walk later," John said.

Sherlock let him believe that they would be allowed to wander about in this wintery wonderland later, after John was done work.

Much later, Sherlock was playing his violin, and John came back. The snow outside had turned to slush, and it had made the bottoms of John's trousers sodden and dirty. As Sherlock had predicted, John was grumpy from having extra patients. All of the glittering snow had melted, leaving London a soupy mess.

"Maybe another day," Sherlock breathed.


	4. Christmas cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas card time in 221b.

"We need to send Christmas cards to everyone," John said that day over breakfast.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

John had a pile of Christmas cards and a list of everyone on it. Sherlock sulked on the couch in his robe, his back facing John pointedly. John didn't seem to notice. He scratched out the names of various acquaintances and stuck them in envelopes one-by-one.

John actually had an address book, a physical one, with a battered cover and worn out edges. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Why couldn't John just use his phone? It was far more efficient.

"You don't need to give one to Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, twisting around. "She lives right downstairs, and she'll be visiting her sister over Christmas anyway."

"Of course we must," John said. "Can't leave out Mrs. Hudson."

John finished writing out messages in the Christmas cards and tracking down all the various addresses. Then, horror of horrors, he came over and plopped the stack of cards and envelopes in front of him.

"You're signing them all," John said in a no-nonsense tone.

Sherlock gave in with bad grace. Then, because Sherlock had been so rude as to suggest leaving out Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock was made to take hers downstairs and deliver it in person.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

Sherlock sighed and said, "Don't bother."


	5. Ghost of Christmas Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock sees something in a shop window that reminds him of something special.

Sherlock was definitely already tired of Christmas, and it hadn't even started yet. There was so much worse to come in the following weeks. Why was Christmas every year? Surely it could come every two years? Or even five?

There were people already out shopping for presents, and Sherlock could hardly make his way through the crowded streets. He was almost at his wits end, when suddenly, something caught his eye, and he stopped abruptly, causing someone to run into him. He brushed it off without apologizing, staring into the window.

It was a pet store.

Inside the window, there was a basket of puppies. Their coats were red, sleek, with tiny little curls at the ends. They were tumbling over each other, playing and barking. Sherlock bit his lip, hard.

There was one puppy looking up at him, and Sherlock was transported back thirty years to a living room filled with presents under a tree. His parents were drinking coffee while Mycroft and Sherlock opened gifts, tearing wrapping paper apart. And there was Sherlock, opening a box with holes in the top. And whump! He had an Irish Setter puppy in his lap.

He'd called it Redbeard.

He'd loved that dog, and there were six tiny Redbeards looking at him through the glass.

When had Christmas started feeling this brittle?


	6. Naughty and Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John catch a Santa.

There was no such thing as Santa Claus, but Sherlock let John handle trying to explain to the horrified children waiting in line to see him. This particular Santa had been involved in a child pornography ring, which Sherlock was also leaving John to explain to the equally horrified parents.

"It looks like Santa is on the naughty list this year," Lestrade said from nearby.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock said. "You're a homocide detective. I thought this wasn't your _division_."

"Someone's got to make sure you stay on the sex crime unit's nice list," Lestrade said. "Or you won't get to take part in another case with them."

They both marveled for a moment at John, who was in the midst of explaining to the children that they weren't seeing the real Santa, and that it had been an impersonator. That's why they were taking him away, for pretending to be Santa. The children, at least, seemed appeased. The parents were still arguing with the mall manager about his screening process for hiring Santas.

"What a mess," Lestrade said. "You make sure that you stay on John's nice list."

Sherlock was afraid that he was perpetually on the naughty list.

Sherlock decided he would tell John about the mess in the sink later. No need to make John go berserk.


	7. The Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock reluctantly attends the ballet.

Mummy wanted to go see the Nutcracker. Sherlock could think of nothing he had less desire to see, but it was his turn. Mummy had even said that John could come if he wanted. Sherlock had no idea why John would bother, but miraculously enough, John agreed at once.

"It's hideously boring," Sherlock insisted as they were on their way in the car, the one sent by Mycroft to collect them.

"I'm sure it will be entertaining enough," John said, rather optimistically in Sherlock's opinion.

"I'm sure it won't," Sherlock said.

The car let them out a little ways from the theatre, and Sherlock's parents were already waiting for them. Mummy cooed and fussed over John, telling him how nice she thought it was that Sherlock had met such a nice young man. A doctor, no less. 

"Please, Mummy, it's not as if we're getting married," snapped Sherlock.

"Sherlock, let your mother have her fuss," said his father. "You know how she worries."

As they were walking inside, suddenly, John grabbed Sherlock's hand in his and squeezed it lightly. John held on for about five seconds, five seconds during which Sherlock didn't dare to breathe.

Sherlock couldn't think of anything else for the entire performance. Sherlock rubbed his hand, remembering the warmth of John's fingers in his, his heart ferociously battering.


	8. Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock likes shortbreads.

Mrs. Hudson was baking, and somehow, John had been roped in to help. Not that he seemed to mind. Sherlock watched from the doorway as they put their batch of shortbreads into the oven. There was flour everywhere, and the kitchen was a mess.

The only reason that Sherlock wasn't complaining was that he actually loved eating shortbreads. There was nothing better, as far as Sherlock was concerned, except maybe mince pies. He hated most aspects of Christmas, but the sweets were the only bearable part.

Sherlock wandered in to look in the oven, although there was no possibility of the biscuits being done yet.

"You've got a bit of flour, just there," Sherlock said with a sniff, pointing at John's face.

"And you've a got a bit of flour just – here!" John said, running a white flour-covered finger over his cheekbone.

"And you, here!" Sherlock said, putting his hands in the flour on the counter and pressing them to John's jumper.

John got a determined look on his face, and Sherlock pointedly put his hand in a pile of flour. This was war.

Soon there was flour everywhere. Sherlock and John panted, covered in it, grinning. Sherlock couldn't help but think that John hadn't minded touching him while the battle was joined. Perhaps not mentioning that would be best.


	9. Making a Christmas list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John asks Sherlock what he wants for Christmas

"Sherlock, what do you want for Christmas?" John asked. "I've got to get my shopping done this week. Next week will probably be hectic for me at the clinic."

"Nothing," Sherlock said absently, working on one of his experiments and not paying much attention.

"It can't be nothing," John insisted. "Surely you have something you want or need."

"Not for Christmas," Sherlock said. "I haven't had a Christmas list since I was a boy."

Come to think of it, he'd stopped asking for anything after Redbeard had been hit by a car and killed. He'd never wanted any presents since then, not if they might be destroyed. Things were so easy to accidentally break.

"Come on, Sherlock," John cajoled. "I'd feel weird buying Christmas presents for everyone else and not getting one for my favourite person."

"I'm your favourite person?" Sherlock asked, surprised.

John sighed. "Of course you are, Sherlock. We've been over this."

"I still can't imagine why," Sherlock said, frowning.

It was true, Sherlock had no idea why John liked spending time with him, not when Sherlock brought down all sorts of unpleasant things on him. From assassin wives to not-dead friends. Best friends. That's what John called them, in spite of all that.

"A puppy," Sherlock said. "Irish setter."

Satisfied, Sherlock returned to experimenting. He'd called John's bluff.


	10. Scrooge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is talk of a Christmas party.

Sherlock was setting up an experiment when John walked in and announced, "I'm thinking that we should have a Christmas party here at Baker street."

Sherlock frowned and stopped fiddling with his slide.

"Why would you want to do that?" Sherlock asked. "The flat will be filled with loud, messy people who we only marginally know through work."

"You know Molly, and Lestrade," John said. "And Mrs. Hudson, of course."

"I wouldn't classify that as a party," Sherlock sniffed.

"Well, it's too late, I've already arranged it," John said.

"I thought you had only been thinking of it," Sherlock said.

"Well, I did, and I have, and now I've decided," John said. "Molly's already RSVP'd."

"Wonderful," Sherlock said. "Just what I need, people tromping around the flat, disturbing my experiments."

"Cheer up, Scrooge," John said. "It's happening, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I could just not come," Sherlock said.

"Bah humbug to you, too," John said.

Bah humbug indeed, Sherlock thought. He had better things to do than go to an uncomfortable Christmas party and drink rum and eggnog. He was certain Molly and Lestrade barely liked him anyway.

"Why should I come, give me one good reason," Sherlock demanded.

"Because I want you to be there," John said.

Well. There was that settled.

"Fine," Sherlock said, bemused.


	11. Mulled wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets back to the scent of spices and wine.

Sherlock returned to the flat to the smell of spices and fruit. It seemed that John was making something on the stovetop, stirring a pot and humming faintly. Sherlock crept closer to have a look, curious in spite of himself. It smelled wonderful, and perhaps John would let him have some.

Sherlock peered over John's shoulder. It appeared to be mulled wine, which Sherlock had memories of being allowed to drink during the Christmas holidays at home when he was a teen. Perhaps sensing someone behind him, John turned his head to look.

Which wouldn't have been a problem if Sherlock hadn't been looking over that shoulder.

John's lips paused a bare inch away, and John blinked slowly in response. Sherlock felt heat flood his face, and he stepped back in surprise. Then, he mentally cursed himself for reacting so suddenly. John's close proximity to him was rare.

"Oh," John said belatedly. "You're back."

"Yes," Sherlock said, feeling out of sorts. "I just got back."

"Have some mulled wine?" John asked.

"Of course," Sherlock replied.

The beverages were poured, and Sherlock sipped at it, the sweet spiced beverage warming him up inside. They shared a careful silence.

The mulled wine was good, but Sherlock couldn't help but think that John's lips, an inch from his own, would have tasted far better.


	12. Ugly Christmas Jumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock hates jumpers more than usual.

The first thing that Sherlock saw that morning was John, who was sporting a hideous monstrosity, and he didn't bother to hold back his greeting of, "What on Earth are you wearing?"

"It's a Christmas jumper," John said. "Mrs. Hudson made it.You've got one, too."

Sherlock went over to the table, picked up the second of the monstrosities, took it to the window, opened it, and tossed it out. There was a disgruntled yell from below, before Sherlock shut the window again.

"Sherlock," John said, sounding more amused than stern. "What am I going to tell Mrs. Hudson?"

"Whatever you like, so long as I don't have to look upon the thing again," Sherlock replied. "If you weren't currently wearing that one, I'd have tossed it out, too."

John tsked at him, but didn't say anything. Sherlock approached John carefully. He wanted to touch John, and now was the perfect opportunity to do so under the guise of poking at the terrible jumper.

It had little pom-poms on it, which Sherlock supposed were supposed to represent snowflakes. It also had a reindeer with a red pom-pom nose. The background was blue, and there was an arch with gold bells. Sherlock reached out and pulled on one of the pom-poms.

The jumper was surprisingly soft.

Or perhaps it was the person beneath.


	13. Warming up by the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets warm.

The heating was broken at Baker street, and it was Sherlock's fault. Sherlock was in trouble with Mrs. Hudson on two counts, and now Sherlock was shivering and waiting for John to light the fire.

"If you hadn't thrown out your new jumper, you'd be quite warm right now," John said. 

John was wearing his terrible jumper at this very moment, and Sherlock considered suggesting that John use it for a firestarter.

"There we are," John said. "It will take a little while for it to get warm. Where's the blanket?"

The blanket was currently growing mould spores in the vacant 221C where Sherlock sometimes broke into to carry out experiments that wouldn't fit in the kitchen. It was proving to be quite diverting. However, it was no longer fit to keep a human body warm.

Sherlock shivered and waited for the flat to warm up.

"Shove over," John said. 

John sat next to him on the couch, and to Sherlock's sudden surprise, put an arm around Sherlock's back.

"I'll warm you up, you daft git," John said cheerfully.

At first, Sherlock froze in silent alarm, but gradually relaxed into John's side. He had been right, John was rather more cuddly than he'd first imagined.

"I'm not a git," said Sherlock belatedly, but John just hummed and leaned against Sherlock bravely.


	14. Trimming the tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock helps John decorate the tree.

"Come on and help me," John said. "We have to get this up for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Sherlock asked sulkily from the sofa.

"Don't you remember?" John asked. "Tomorrow's the party."

"Oh," Sherlock said, going back to sulking.

The party he'd agreed to go to even though it was going to be annoying. What did it matter to Lestrade and Molly whether or not he came to the party?

"Don't be like that, you sod," John said. "We all love hearing you play on the violin."

"I still don't want to help with the tree," Sherlock sighed, sinking back into the sofa.

"Come on, up you get," John said, and ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls before putting a box of ornaments on his supine form.

It was the hand in his hair that decided him, and Sherlock groaned as he came to stand in front of the tree. John had set it up without assistance, and even put lights on it. Sherlock began hanging bulbs with as even intervals as he could manage.

After a while, Sherlock got the skull and put it on top of the tree in place of the angel.

"Don't think I didn't notice you," John said.

"Are you going to take it down?" Sherlock asked.

John laughed, and the skull remained where it was balanced.


	15. Christmas party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock puts up with a party in his flat.

The day of the dreaded party, Sherlock pretended that he had something much better to do, such as a case, or looking at some fascinating dead thing at the morgue. Unfortunately for him, both Lestrade and Molly knew exactly what he was up to.

"Nothing from the morgue for you today, Sherlock," Molly said sternly.

Why was everyone determined to make things terrible?

Sherlock tried to sulk on the sofa in his pyjamas, but was shooed off the couch by John, who directed him to get changed. Sherlock sulked, but got changed anyway.

Mrs. Hudson arrived first, and immediately came to fuss over Sherlock. "Oh, you look a treat, doesn't he, John?"

"He does," John said, smiling so softly that Sherlock's stomach fluttered.

The rest of the guests arrived at once, and Sherlock was persuaded, in no small part by the remembrance of John's smile, to play the violin. It wasn't terrible, as far as parties went. At least he liked everyone there.

Apparently the punch was spiked, because Molly and Lestrade had come over rather giggly, and Mrs. Hudson had gone downstairs for her evening soother. After Molly and Lestrade had caught a cab, that left John and Sherlock.

"You did well, Sherlock," John said, and Sherlock flushed.

Sherlock just nodded, not trusting his voice not to come out breathy.


	16. Family Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some family traditions are more interesting than others.

Sherlock sat in the back of the car Mycroft had come and kidnapped him in with his back to his older brother, arms crossed and staring out the window.

"Sherlock, please don't sulk. It's unbecoming of an adult in his thirties," Mycroft said.

"I told you, I don't want to come home for Christmas," Sherlock repeated.

"If you could give me a good reason why, I'd have left you alone," Mycroft said.

"You know why," Sherlock said, and huddled further into his seat.

"Yes, but I want you to say it," Mycroft said. "I can get this car to turn around right now if you would just tell me what it is that makes it so important to return to 221b."

Sherlock's mouth thinned, and he didn't say a word.

"I thought not," Mycroft said.

Mycroft knew of course, probably had known longer than even Sherlock. He simply wanted to torment Sherlock by refusing to see reason. 

_I've been kidnapped by a maniac wielding an umbrella – SH_

Sherlock sat and waited, knowing that John was in the clinic and wouldn't answer. The car pulled up to a house, and Mummy was there waiting to greet them. Sherlock allowed her to kiss his cheek and fuss over him.

"What's with the sour face?" asked Mummy.

Mycroft huffed. "He misses his blogger."


	17. Christmas without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is lonely.

It turned out that Sherlock hadn't completely escaped the scourge of ugly Christmas jumpers. Mummy had made some as well, and insisted on Sherlock wearing it. The only upside to this was that Mycroft had to wear one too.

Sherlock was passing the time by taking pictures of Mycroft in his jumper and posting them on the internet. Mycroft was passing the time by finding them and taking them all down.

Sherlock missed John, and wished that he could be here. Rather, wished he was back at Baker street. John would probably be watching telly right now.

_What's on the telly? SH._

_East Enders. How long are you going to be there?_

_No idea. Until Mummy is satisfied she has tortured me enough. SH_

Sherlock sighed and took another picture of Mycroft devouring a shortbread biscuit. Mycroft shot him a dirty look, but couldn't say anything due to his full mouth.

"We should play charades," said Mummy, bustling into the kitchen.

"No," said both brothers, glaring at one another across the room.

"That would end terribly," Mycroft said.

"Like that time we played Operation?" taunted Sherlock.

"Boys, behave!" Mummy said. "I'm going to do more baking."

Mycroft groaned.

He missed John. He missed him so much his insides hurt.

"Mycroft," he said suddenly. "Take me to Baker street. Take me back."


	18. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets a surprise.

Sherlock slammed the door of Mycroft's black car and rushed up to the door of 221b. Once he'd decided, he'd harassed his brother into returning him at once. Sherlock climbed the stairs gleefully, because he hadn't told John yet that he was coming back.

He was unexpectedly met with John standing on a ladder hanging up something from the middle of the doorframe. He was about to demand attention when John noticed him.

"Oh," John said, and took his hands away from the decoration.

Mistletoe. Sherlock froze and felt his face flush up to his ears. John blinked and slowly descended the ladder. He moved it out of the way carefully.

"Sherlock?" he said tentatively.

"I... I, um," Sherlock said.

He took a step forward and froze again.

"You?" John prompted hesitantly.

Sherlock edged his way forward until John was right in front of him, and both were underneath the mistletoe. Sherlock ducked his head slightly, but then thought better of it and pulled back.

"Oh, come here," John said and pulled his head down.

Sherlock's head whirled, and his entire planet of being tilted on its axis, because it was just to much to take in. John was... John was going to...

John's hands were in his hair.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

Their lips met, and it was pure bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!


	19. Christmas songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is surprised.

Sherlock had been floating on air ever since the previous day. It almost felt like a dream to him, and he didn't generally believe in miracles, but this certainly felt like one. Sherlock was afraid this air of uncertain joy would shatter at any moment.

He was just so... _happy._

He felt like all his feelings which he'd been holding back all this time had come to the surface and bursting through. He'd never felt like this before in his life, and it was almost startling.

He was doing an experiment in the kitchen, and he was actually humming along to a Christmas song that he'd heard on a taxi's radio. He didn't even know what it was called, but it was bouncy and cheerful. 

"I'll be home for Christmas... if only in my dreams..." John suddenly appeared from behind him, and before Sherlock knew it, they were waltzing across the kitchen while John hummed the song. Sherlock's feet automatically followed where John's led, and Sherlock's heart hammered as John smiled at him.

With a flourish, they came to a halt, and John lifted Sherlock's hand to his mouth and brushed a soft kiss over his knuckles. Sherlock blinked in surprise that something that simple felt so huge to him.

Sherlock didn't know how something could be so perfect without breaking.


	20. All Wrapped up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock realized how special hugs are.

The best thing that Sherlock had discovered about being with John is that he could demand a hug anytime he wanted. Mostly, he would come and stand very close to John and lean on him until John realized what he wanted.

He mused that it was sort of like being a present, and that presents must be very lucky if being wrapped up in this fashion made them as special as Sherlock felt. How silly of him, musing on the emotional properties of inanimate objects.

Thinking of presents brought Sherlock to his current dilemma. He had already bought John a navy blue jumper that he thought would bring out John's eyes. He knew John would appreciate it. But was he supposed to get something extra special now that they were together?

That made Sherlock ponder their current relationship, because John had never clarified exactly what the relationship was. All that Sherlock really knew was that he could get free hugs whenever he wanted, and lots of kisses if he pleased.

He had already partaken of both those relationship elements a lot, and it was a novel experience.

Perhaps he would get John a watch. John's current watch strap was worn out and he needed a new one. Satisfied with this plan, Sherlock settled back to wallow in this sense of belonging.


	21. Christmas movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John isn't paying enough attention.

John was sitting on the sofa watching some dull Christmas movie, one in black and white. A small child was talking about an angel getting its wings or some such rot. Anyhow, the point was, John was not paying attention to Sherlock.

Sherlock slunk up behind the couch and waited for John to turn around, but John seemed captivated by what was happening on the screen.

Unacceptable.

Sherlock went to the other end of the couch and leaned against the arm, lounging as if he were completely disinterested. John continued watching, his attention fixed steadily on the silly movie.

Sherlock sat on the end of the couch opposite John. The couch shifted with Sherlock's weight, then settled. John didn't even blink at the intrusion on his attention. Sherlock, determined to regain John's regard, shifted closer with a slight shimmy of his hips. 

There was a twitch at the corner of John's mouth. Aha! John _was_ paying attention after all. Sherlock shifted closer again with more purpose, until a line of warmth from John's close proximity burned up his side.

John kept watching the telly, and Sherlock let out a huff of annoyance. He was about to open his mouth and demand John pay attention when John chuckled.

"Come here," he said, and pulled Sherlock over into his lap.

There. Much better.


	22. Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John pass the time.

"Hateful," Sherlock muttered, looking out the window, but nothing he said or did would change the fact that a few measly inches of snow had brought London to a standstill.

"What's that?" John asked sleepily.

"No criminal is going to go out in this weather," Sherlock said, waving his hand at the window. "Look at it out. Argh!"

Sherlock flopped on the sofa and crossed his arms.

John looked out and nodded. "It's really coming down out there."

Sherlock made a small noise in his throat and hunched down further. John chuckled and came to sit next to him.

"Budge over you," John said.

Sherlock did, and allowed John to pull him into his arms with a low noise in the back of his throat. This was such a new experience, curling up on the couch with John and snuggling. John's arms were warm and firm around him, and Sherlock sighed in contentment.

"You didn't make half so many cute noises until now," John murmured, and Sherlock blushed. "Let's see how many more you can make."

Sherlock made a surprised sound as John pressed his mouth to the corner of Sherlocks and hummed in pleasure as John's lips found his.

"I bet I can kiss you until you melt," John said.

Considering past experience, Sherlock wasn't going to make any bets.


	23. All I want for Christmas is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock confesses.

Sherlock wished that he could say that his love confession was smooth, planned out, and above all, calm. However, that was anything but the case.

John was washing dishes and the sight of him was simply too much to bear. Something inside Sherlock overflowed and overwhelmed him.

"I love you," Sherlock blurted without any finesse whatsoever. "Like that song. If this relationship is all I receive this year, I would be satisfied."

John smiled and wiped off his hands. He slowly walked across the kitchen, a distance that seemed infinite in that moment. He tucked his thumbs into Sherlock's belt loops and pulled him close.

"I..." Sherlock gasped. "I haven't always felt this way, or even realized my own emotional state. But everything that's happened until now has lead me to this."

He forced the words out as fast as he could, scared that he wouldn't remember them all, or that they would get stuck in his throat and become jumbled.

John grinned so widely that Sherlock was dazzled.

John said, "I love you, too, Sherlock. Have done for ages, I hope you realize. Head over heels, as they say. You know this type of thing never came easy to me. I've had to write it piece by piece, just so I could say it to you now."

Sherlock felt beloved.


	24. St. Nicholas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock receives what he asked for.

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even Sherlock. He was sitting in his chair waiting for John to return. John had received a mysterious phone call from someone and dashed off without an explanation.

It wasn't often Sherlock needed an explanation, but this time, Sherlock had no clue what John could be doing.

So Sherlock waited, had been for an hour. It was rather unlike John to be this mysterious.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and John came in with a box.

"I know you said that I was all you wanted for Christmas, but I got you something anyway," John said.

Sherlock approached the box carefully, and as he did, it shuffled suddenly. Something alive was inside.

Sherlock opened the box, and a fuzzy snout poked out.

It hit Sherlock like a punch to the gut. John had done as asked and found him an Irish Setter puppy.

To Sherlock's surprise, he found tears welling up in his eyes. He reached out a hand, and the snout sniffed him, then sneezed. All at once, Sherlock had a lapful of eager puppy.

"Do you like her?" John asked tentatively.

Sherlock found he was unable to speak, so instead he bundled her close and nodded.

Sherlock hardly dared to believe.


	25. Christmas morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has the best Christmas he could have wished for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of it! I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and Merry Christmas!

Sherlock whimpered and clung to John's back, fingers slipping in sweat, nails scoring the broad expand of skin.

"It's okay, I've got you, sweetheart," John said roughly in his ear.

Sherlock's fingers found the short hair at the nape of John's neck and pulled. John growled against Sherlock's throat and nipped at it. Sherlock mewled and melted back against the bed.

John reached his hand in between their sweat-slicked bellies and grasped Sherlock's cock. He took them both in hand. Sherlock gasped wordlessly.

"That's it, love," John said. "Come on, I know you can do it."

"John," Sherlock whined. "John, I'm going to..."

"Let go, darling, I'm right here," John groaned.

Sherlock keened, grabbing onto the closest part of John tightly, and felt himself release all over John's fist and his own belly. His mind soared for an instant before crashing back down to earth.

They both panted together for a moment before John tightened his arms around Sherlock.

"You're amazing," John said.

Sherlock made a throaty noise and curled closer into John, who entangled their legs even more.

"You really think so?" Sherlock asked shyly.

It was Christmas morning, and although Sherlock hadn't expected it, John had responded well to Sherlock's hesitant hand underneath his shirt. One thing led to another, and here they were.

John said softly, "You're beautiful."

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://testosterone-tea.tumblr.com/>My%20Tumblr</a>)


End file.
